


A Good Pet

by Tiraen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Humiliation, M/M, Master/Slave, Non-Consensual, Rape, Slavery, Spanking, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 17:19:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiraen/pseuds/Tiraen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is captured by Lord Voldemort. The Dark Lord is intent on having the Boy-Who-Lived as his pet.</p>
<p>Warnings are in the tags.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Pet

When Bellatrix had come to his cell in the dungeons, he vaguely wondered if that meant it was time for him to die. Part of him wished that it was. He had been in his cell, alone, for what felt like months. In fact, he was almost happy to see Bellatrix. She was the first human face he had seen in that time, and he was glad that he wasn’t going to be left to rot.

She had lead her through what appeared to be a lavish manor house, not that Harry particularly cared where he was.

When they arrived in front of two orate doors, she hadn’t hesitated, but lead her bound prisoner through them and into a large room.

Harry looked around. It was filled with unmasked Death Eaters, and at the front, in what looked like a black and silver throne, was Lord Voldemort himself.

Harry winced as his scar began to burn with a new vigor. It had been throbbing nearly the entire time he had been captured, but this was a new pain.

“Mr. Potter. What a pleasure to see you again. I’m so glad you’ve decided to grace us with your presence.”

Voldemort spoke with his usual sibilant hiss, and his followers all laughed at his words. Harry looked around, and, seeing no sympathetic faces, turned back to Voldemort.

“Tom. I can’t say I’m pleased to see you,” he said, doing his best to pretend that he had some kind of hope of escape. Trying to pretend that he was an equal of Voldemort.

Several of the Death Eaters drew their wands as they heard his tone, but Voldemort merely raised a hand, and they calmed.

“It is good to see that you have not broken in your imprisonment,” Voldemort said, standing. Nagini slithered in front of him as he walked towards Harry, the snake circling them both. “I would have that pleasure for myself.”

“You’ll never break me, Tom.”

Voldemort smiled at him. It was a terrifying sight, and Harry nearly looked away from it.

“We shall see.”

Reaching out, Voldemort touched Harry’s face. His long fingers traced the lightning bolt scar, and Harry winced violently. The dark lord’s touch was more painful than ever.

Suddenly, the pain stopped. Harry blinked, looking up at Voldemort, unable to disguise his curiosity.

Voldemort smiled at him.

“You will feel pain only when I wish it, Mr. Potter.”

Harry frowned. Did that mean that Voldemort didn’t want him to be in pain? That was… unexpected.

Voldemort waved his hand, and the ropes that bound Harry’s wrists fell to the floor. For a moment, Harry thought to run. But of course, that would be foolish. Death Eaters surrounded him, and he would probably only die sooner and more painfully.

Instead, Harry straightened his back, crossing his arms over his chest. He wouldn’t show any signs of weakness. Not in front of the man who had caused him so much pain.

“Kneel.”

The order came suddenly, and Harry was almost startled by it. He looked at Voldemort defiantly, the rage in his eyes his only answer.

“Do you remember, Mr. Potter, when I was resurected? And we dueled?”

Voldemort spoke casually, as if Harry was a friend and they were merely having tea. Harry hesitated for a moment, before nodding shortly.

“Ah, good. I remember that you resisted the imperius curse. No doubt now your abilities are more powerful than ever. But I have more ways to make you obey me.”

Voldemort waved his wand, and Harry felt a great pressure on his shoulder, pushing him down. He resisted, tensing his back and clenching his fists, but eventually he collapsed, falling to his knees.

“You see, it is foolish to resist.”

Harry tried to rise to his feet, but as he did so the pressure returned two-fold, and he stopped, unable to bear the pain. He looked straight ahead, staring at the empty throne. He would not give in, he would not.

As he felt a hand rest on his head, Harry jerked violently, surprised. The hand gripped his hair viciously, and he stopped moving,

“You look so pretty, kneeling at my feet, Harry.”

Voldemort’s voice was a mix of amused and kind, and Harry didn’t know what to make of it. Part of him wanted to respond - he was not pretty - but he kept his silence.

Voldemort released his hair, circling around him.

“Something isn’t quite right, Harry. Ah! I know.”

Harry couldn’t see Voldemort, so he didn’t know what was happening. All he knew was that one moment later, his clothes had disappeared. Face flushed with shame, he hunched over, covering himself as he looked around wildly.

The Death Eaters all laughed and jeered, and Harry could feel Voldemort moving behind him.

“Please-“

The word came out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

“Please? Please what, Harry?”

Voldemort was leaning over him, his hands on Harry’s bare shoulders. But Harry only shook his head, refusing to speak again.

“I see. Well, since you don’t object to this, perhaps we can move on then.”

A cruel hand gripped his hair once more, and pulled. A whimper emerged from Harry’s throat, unbidden, as he allowed Voldemort to raise him up, exposing his body to the Death Eaters properly.

“Do you see yet, Harry, what is to become of you? Do you understand?”

Voldemort had leaned over, and was whispering in his ear, his lips nearly touching Harry’s skin.

Harry trembled, but didn’t respond.

He felt Voldemort’s wand at his neck, and a whispered word later, something encircled his throat. Harry’s hands flew up to feel it, and with a sense of dread realized that a leather collar rested there. He swallowed heavily, shaking his head.

“Ah, I see you do understand. I wonder how long it will take to break you, Harry.”

The full impact of his situation hit him, and Harry began to shake. Before he could think, before he could reason with himself, he had wrenched his hair out of Voldemort’s grip and was running for the exit, uncaring about his state of dress, thinking only of escape.

The pain hit him like a knife, digging into his forehead, and he collapsed, screaming.

Two Death Eaters hoisted him up, and dragged him back over to Voldemort, dropping him at the Dark Lord’s feet, where he lay on the ground, his voice hoarse as he screamed.

The pain stopped, and he opened his eyes to see Voldemort crouching over him.

“That was very naughty, Harry. Good pets don’t try to run away from their owners.” Voldemort said, but Harry could see the smirk on his face. “Now, where were we?”

He hauled Harry up by his hair, and Harry knelt once more.

“It seems that we’ll have to do something about that. We can’t have you running off every moment.”

A chain materialized, attached to the leather collar. Voldemort held the end, and Harry realized with dread that it was a muggle dog leash. His face burned.

Voldemort turned on his heel, walking back to his throne.

Harry was jerked violently forward, and he stood, reluctantly allowing himself to be pulled forward. Another forceful pull on the chain, and he fell to his knees. Without looking back at him, Voldemort spoke.

“Good pets don’t walk without permission, Harry.”

Shaking in a combination of rage, terror, and humiliation, Harry crawled forward. He wanted to run, he wanted to kill Voldemort and everyone in the room - but he had no wand. Even if he did, Voldemort could apparently stop him with a thought. Harry had never been the sort to think before he acted, but he was not an idiot. He would go along with Voldemort, but he would keep his eye out for a chance, any opportunity to kill the man. Maybe, just maybe, he would be able to.

It was this thought in his mind that kept him going. If it meant killing Voldemort, he could do anything, even kneel to him.

Voldemort sat on his throne, pulling Harry close to him, and took his chin into his hands.

“Look at me, Harry,” Voldemort whispered, and Harry glanced up into his eyes. Before he had a chance to realize his mistake, the dark lord was in his mind.

For Harry, it felt like hours past, but it must have only been minutes.

“Well, well, well.” Voldemort spoke quietly, but the words rang out through the hall. “It seems that Mr. Potter here is entertaining thoughts of killing me.”

Murmurs of anger reached Harry’s ears, louder and louder from the gathered Death Eaters, but his eyes were locked on Voldemort’s. For some reason, he couldn’t look away.

“Punish him!”

“Cruciatus!”

“Make him scream!”

“Make him beg!”

“Kill him!”

The shouts began. Harry didn’t know which of the Death Eater’s was speaking, and he didn’t care. Voldemort had learned his plan, and he was going to kill him. Harry was certain. His death was coming, and all of a sudden, he wanted to live. He thought he had been ready to die, thought that he had accepted his inevitable death, but Harry didn’t want to die.

Voldemort stared at him for a moment longer, before looking out at his followers, raising an arm. They silenced immediately.

“My pet needs to learn his place. But he will not die, not today. Not until his usefulness has ended. But what shall I do with him?”

The suggestions rang out, from the cruciatus curse to whipping him to letting the Death Eater punish him in Voldmort’s stead.

The Dark Lord listened patiently, until he heard a suggestion that he like. He raised an arm again, and they quieted.

“Severus, what a brilliant idea. What caused you to think of it?”

“I often thought that Potter deserved a good spanking, my lord. No doubt that alone would not be punishment enough, but perhaps in front of everyone here, the humilation…”

Voldemort smiled. “Perhaps I ought to give you a chance to do it yourself, eventually. But not today.”

Harry swallowed heavily. A spanking? He had never been spanked in his life. He didn’t think the pain would be too bad - not after the cruciatus and his scar - but in front of Snape and Malfoy and Bellatrix…

“Please,” he whispered, looking down. “Please don’t.”

He had sworn to himself that he would never beg the Dark Lord, that he would take his torture with as much dignity as he could muster. But he had never thought that Voldemort would do this.

“Please?” Voldemort repeated, mockingly. “Do you hear that?” he said louder. “Harry says ‘please!’”

“Itty bitty baby Potter can’t take a spanking!” Bellatrix shrieked, delighted.

The rest of the Death Eaters laughed. Voldemort looked down at Harry.

“You tried to run, Harry pet. Don’t you think you deserve to be punished for trying to run from your owner?”

Harry had no response to that. He wasn’t a pet! But to deny Voldemort, to argue, to fight, would only cause his punishment to be worse, he knew. And some of the suggestions had been so much worse.

So when Voldemort tugged at his chain, his leash, Harry allowed himself to be guided without a fight. He was pulled over Voldemort’s lap, his hands nearly touching the floor where the hung, his ass in the air.

Harry’s face burned. What a sight he must be.

“Now, Harry pet. You’ll count each spanking and thank me for it, do you understand? If you lose count, I’ll start over.”

Harry nodded.

“What did you say, pet?”

“Yes.” Harry croaked out, his voice still hoarse.

“Yes… what?”

Harry was silent. He would not call Voldemort master, he would not -

But the pain in his scar returned, only for a moment. It was enough to remind him.

“Yes master.”

His voice cracked as he spoke, but whether from humiliation or pain he could not say.

“Are you ready, pet?”

When it became clear that Voldemort wasn’t going to start until he responded, Harry spoke.

“Yes… master.” The words were almost physically painful.

When the first strike landed, Harry jerked, almost falling. A low moan emerged from his throat, but he didn’t otherwise make a sound.

“One, thank you,” he forced himself to say, not wanting to think about what would happen if he refused.

“Thank you… what?” Voldemort prompted, and Harry breathed heavily for a moment. He could do this, he could. He would make it through this.

“One, thank you master.”

“Good pet.”

Voldemort ran his hand down Harry’s back, almost tenderly. Harry looked straight at the floor, doing his best to ignore the cheers and jeers of the Death Eaters. A hand rested on his rear for a moment, before suddenly coming down again, in the same spot as before. Harry grunted.

“Two, thank you master.”

Voldemort soon settled into a rhythm, Harry counting and thanking him after each strike. His bum was soon a bright red, and there were tears in his eyes, his voice breaking as he counted.

“Twenty, thank you master.”

And the spanking stopped. Harry could have sobbed in relief.

“And what did you learn, pet?”

“Not to… not to run away, master.” Harry muttered.

“And?”

“Not to think about killing you.” Harry said, a hint of defiance in his voice. But if Voldemort noticed, he didn’t say anything.

“Good enough. Of course, you shouldn’t think about betraying me at all, pet, but we’ll get to that.”

Voldemort was caressing his bum, and Harry couldn’t help thinking that it felt rather good after the spanking. He blushed at the very thought, even as he could feel himself growing aroused.

As though he could read Harry’s mind, Voldemort spoke.

“You like this, don’t you pet? You like a kind touch.”

Harry swallowed, but didn’t answer.

The caressing stopped, and Voldemort raised his hand, allowing a sharp slap to fall on Harry’s ass.

“Answer me, pet.”

“Y-yes, master.” Harry said, blushing and refusing to look up, not wanting to see the faces of the Death Eaters.

“I am not a cruel master to those who obey me, Harry, as my Death Eaters can tell you. If you are a good pet, you will receive many kind touches from me. Disobey, and you will receive much more than a spanking. Do you understand?”

“Yes, master.”

“Good.”

“Stand up.”

Harry was still for a moment, before shaking his head.

“Please no…”

He could practically hear Voldemort’s smirk in his voice.

“Stand up, pet, and let everyone see how you respond to my touch.” Voldemort’s voice had a sharp edge to it, and Harry knew that if he disobeyed, if he put off standing much longer, he would be in pain again, shamed in front of the Death Eaters.

Harry didn’t want that to happen.

Slowly, praying to whatever gods that would listen and trying to think of the most sexually un-appealing things he could think of, Harry stood, facing the Dark Lord.

“Turn around, pet.”

Harry’s gaze darted up at Voldemort’s face, and he knew that he had no choice. Refuse, and the dark lord would turn him around against his will, and he’d be punished on top of that.

Slowly, reluctantly, Harry turned in place.

As his erection was exposed to the mass of Death Eaters, the roared in approval, shouting their pleasure at this visible form of his submission.

Voldemort stood, leaning forward and wrapped his arms around Harry’s chest. The dark lord was tall compared to Harry’s slight frame, so he had to bend over to kiss Harry’s neck. The gesture was almost kind, almost sweet, something a lover would do, and Harry trembled.

He had never been touched in such a way before. Sure, he had dreamed and fantasized about it, but he never had the chance. And a part of him, a part that he hated, loved the touch and wanted more.

He was pulled back against Voldemort’s chest, one arm holding him tightly.

The other moved, trailing a path down his chest and stomach until it was lightly resting at his cock.

Long fingers wrapped around him, and Harry shuddered, hating the touch as much as he wanted the hand to just move.

Voldemort whispered something that sounded like a spell, though Harry couldn’t quite make it out, and suddenly his cock was slick with warm lubricant.

Slowly, Voldemort began to stroke him.

Harry did his best to remain still, to not react, to just let it happen - but the hand felt so good, and it had been so long….

His eyes closed so that he could pretend, and Voldemort didn’t stop him.

Harry’s hand reached behind him, grasping Voldemort’s robe tightly. Low, breathy moans emerged from his lips. His hips began to buck, back and forth, urging the dark lord to move faster.

“Who do you belong to, Harry?”

The voice in his ear was quiet. Harry shook his head, but the hand only stroked him faster.

“Who to you belong to, pet?”

And as Harry moved closer and closer to orgasm, his first at the hands of another, the words came out of his lips against his will.

“I belong to you, my lord.”

His body tensed as he came with a cry, spilling his seed over Voldemort’s hand.

Eyes still closed, Harry felt Voldemort’s hand on his shoulder, and allowed himself to be pushed to his knees. If he didn’t look at Voldemort’s pale face, or at the Death Eaters that surrounded him, he could almost fool himself into thinking that it was the hand of a lover on his shoulder.

“Lick.”

The order came, and Harry obeyed without at thought, opening his mouth and licking at the hand covered in his seed.

“Do you see, my faithful followers?” Voldemort said as Harry finished, stroking his hair. “Do you see the power of your lord? My most bitter enemy, willingly kneeling at my feet, ready to obey my every word.”

They cheered.

“And without their ‘chosen one,’ what will the pathetic Order do? Without their leader, how will they oppose us? We have all but won, my faithful. And the proof is kneeling in front of me. On the morrow, we shall take the ministry. Within a month, Hogwarts itself will be ours. Wizarding Britain will exist under a new regime, and you will be the cause.”

Harry could hear the Death Eaters shouting in glee, and knew the Voldemort was right.

Without him, without Dumbledore, Wizarding Britain had no chance.

He would look for his chance, and when it came, he would kill Voldemort. Not for his parents, but for himself. For the humiliation that he had just gone through.

But as the hand caressing his hair tightened, he wondered if he would ever get that chance.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at smut! Let me know how I did.
> 
> Written for a prompt at Voldemort's Meme at worshipdarklord on LJ.  
> Prompter: marianna_merlo  
> Prompt: Humiliation & Shame  
> Additional Prompts: Bare-assed spanking, public undressing, forced kneeling and bowing, bound/chained/collared, verbal shaming and dirty talk.  
> Pairing: Voldemort/Harry (captured)


End file.
